She wants to turn up the heat. He’s got the skills to whip her into a frenzy. TV food show host Tabbart Tracy works hard to give viewers her best recipes. But while her fans are legion, her personal life is colder than a meat locker. Most men just want her to serve up some pie—in the nude.

One glance at her assistant’s sexy brother, though, and her body skips straight from low simmer to rolling boil. Especially when she tracks him down at a stud ranch. Where he’s the stud.

When a certain little TV foodie personally requests Stowe’s company for a week, he’s flattered as hell. She needs to give up some control, and as a sex therapist otherwise known as the “Dom from Down Under”, Stowe has the leather, rope, and paddles to do it.

Just as Tabbart melts into a puddle under Stowe’s hands, her worst fear chills her back to reality: someone recognizes her. Worse, her Master frowns on opening her checkbook to make it all go away. But trusting him means hanging onto their connection with both hands—while he takes her for the ride of her life.

Warning: This book contains a TV chef looking for some R&R (as in rough and raunchy) and a whip-wielding Aussie cowboy Dom intent on showing her she can take the heat. As hot as—and anywhere—she wants it.

Then she saw it—a glimpse of black. A pickup truck with the door hanging open. She barely had time to conjure the words of the greeting she’d prepared when her door opened and a big male arm reached inside. Sprinkled with dark hair, a thick leather watch strapped around the wrist. Her mind was wiped clean as she looked into a set of very dark eyes staring at her from under the black hat she’d come to know so well. The upward curl of his lip made her heart turn over painfully, then gallop out of control. She sat there like an idiot. He gripped her hands and pulled her to her feet. She locked her knees to keep from falling over, then Stowe’s trim backside moved away from her. He opened the trunk of the car and hauled her luggage out. When he spun and fixed her in his gaze again, she released the breath she’d been holding. Her pulse pounded in her ears. God, she was acting like a young girl with her first crush. She was a grown woman. She was… At a sex ranch with the man of her fantasies. Her pussy clenched. “This all you got?” he drawled in that hot accent. “Y-yes.” Stutter activated. He grasped her forearm as he passed. The warmth and roughness of his hand on her bare arm scalded. Sweat broke out on her forehead. He opened the passenger door of the truck for her and guided her inside, then dumped her suitcase in the bed. Her hand twitched to shove her glasses up and get a real look at him, but she couldn’t blow her cover. She watched as he swaggered back to the silver car, pulled his wallet from the back pocket of worn jeans—molded to his fine ass—and took out some bills. He handed them to the driver through the window. Then he tapped the car roof twice and the driver moved off in a new cloud of dust. I’m alone with him.

In the middle of nowhere. He could do anything to her. Strip her, fuck her. God, she wanted both.

Author Bio

Em
Petrova lives in Backwoods, Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a
Labradoodle named Daisy Hasselhoff. Her dream is to buy an old pickup and
travel small-town USA meeting people and hearing their stories. Her heroes are
hardworking—in bed and out—and she is known for panty-scorching erotic romance.

Can someone constantly on the receiving end of betrayal learn to trust again?

Dietrich Omari Johnson trusts no one.

Sold into slavery by his own people, he learns early what the sharp edge of betrayal feels like. Working for the Shadow Unit is out of forced necessity.

Never one to do something for nothing, he plays both sides of the fence. Every move, every decision, is calculated for his own personal gain.

Jorunn McLellan, given into the care of the Unit’s meanest team member, tries to make the best of a frightening situation.

The dominating Walker hides behind his shades, and harsh comments, yet still manages to heat up her body.

Can she put to rest the emotions Dietrich awakens and move on with her life before he steals her soul and shatters her heart? Or is the glimpse he allows her to see enough to fight for what she knows is his only chance for happiness?

“I’d like to be a part of this mission,” D said the words before he could stop them. Shaking his head to clear his brain, he stood back. Did he really just volunteer? He’d gotten what he needed. Now all he had to do was stick close to the club owner.

“You’re always a part of the missions. You’re transport,” Xee reminded as if he’d gone and lost his mind.

Shaking his head, he walked up to Xee, making sure she understood his intentions. He didn’t like the way Draven was eyeing him.

He was fine. It wasn’t like anyone truly cared either way. He stuck to his shit, they stuck to theirs.

“I’m good. I just want…” What the hell did he want? Oh, right, to get closer to Phineas, fuck Jorunn out of his system, and in the end, be one step closer to getting his sister back. Wait, what? Fuck Jorunn? No. Hell, no! That was not part of the plan. Dick says otherwise. His dick was fucking stupid. “I just want to ensure we get the Sahidic and tell Eremiel he can go fuck himself.” Yeah, you sound so convincing. He never bragged he was up for the next Academy Award. It was convincing enough, though.

Xee knew him better than that. She was tied to Gabe, he knew, but he wanted to remind everyone listening that he was still a dick.

“Dude, seriously, sooo not my type,” Xee quipped back.

“You ain’t got a type, girl.”

Xee cracked a grin. “How do you figure that?”

Dietrich turned his attention to Gabe, who was standing with his arms crossed, trying his best to look badass. Draven quietly left, taking Faith with him. The wolf was probably going in search of his mate.

“You’re literally fucking Death,” he deadpanned.

Author Bio

Tigris is a military brat who's done her fair share of travelling, thanks to her Army father. She's married to the infamous LL and has three boys. She currently resides in Houston and is actively seeking a book-buddy for the end of the world.

Sutton Creech was a cheat and a liar. Tate Porter had found that
out when he was eighteen, and he had no intention of letting her make a fool
out of him again. He didn’t care how much pain he saw in her eyes or how old
memories tugged at his unforgiving heart until, the night a hidden secret is
revealed and everything Tate had believed about their past is shattered,
proving he had let the woman he loved get away.

Between trying to protect his family and running their pot growing
business, Tate doesn't have time to play the "Nice Guy". He'd just
have to remember the most important rule his father had given them: A
Porter always keeps what's his.

“You
going to drag your ass out of bed to take him to school in the mornings? Wash
his dirty clothes? Fix his dinner? I don’t notice you putting up a fight when
Holly washes your dirty clothes, and you sure as fuck don’t have a problem wolfing
down those meals she cooks.”

Greer
shrugged. “She’s earning her keep.”

Tate
snorted. “What keep? That small bedroom she sleeps in or the house where you
refuse to remodel the kitchen? The floorboards are so thin one of our feet is
going to go through it one day.”

“It’s
fine.” Greer crossed his arms against his chest stubbornly.

“It’s
a shithole, and you know it, but you’re hoping to run Holly off. I thought you
were smarter than that. Holly won’t leave Logan. She’d die for that boy, which
is more than I can say about you.”

“What
in the fuck does that mean?”

“It
means, after we sell the pot, we’re getting a new kitchen,” Tate stated firmly.

“You’ll
be using your share, then. I have better uses for my money.”

“What?
Drinking or whoring?”

“Both.”

Tate’s
hands tightened on the steering wheel, controlling the impulse to punch his
brother in the face. Bringing the truck to a stop in front of their house, he
turned to stare coldly at Greer.

“We’re
getting the fucking kitchen.”

Greer
opened his mouth then closed it, smart enough to realize Tate’s mind was made
up.

“Fine,
but there better not be any fancy shit in it.”

Confused,
Tate stared at his brother. “Like what?”

“No
dishwasher nor any of that frosted glass. If I want anyone to see what’s in my
cabinets, I’ll leave the doors open.”

Tate
laid his head on the steering wheel instead of banging it against it the way he
wanted to. “Do you have to be such a hillbilly?”

Greer
got out of the truck without answering the obvious.

Tate
climbed out after taking a deep breath. Greer would try the patience of a saint,
and he sure as fuck wasn’t one of those. He lowered the tailgate, pulling the
box that held the groceries toward him, and then each brother lifted several
bags into their arms.

“You
think she’ll stay around a while?”

“Holly?”

“No!
The woman we saw at the hotel.”

His
brother had the attention span of a gnat.

"I
was born in a small town in Kentucky. My family began poor, but worked their
way to owning a restaurant. My mother was one of the best cooks I have ever
known, and she instilled in all her children the value of hard work, and
education.

Taking
after my mother, I've always love to cook, and became pretty good if I do say
so myself. I love to experiment and my unfortunate family has suffered through
many. They now have learned to steer clear of those dishes. I absolutely love
the holidays and my family puts up with my zany decorations.

For
now, my days are spent writing, writing, and writing. I have two children who
both graduated this year from college. My daughter does my book covers, and my
son just tries not to blush when someone asks him about my books.

Currently
I am writing five series of books- The Last Riders, The VIP Room, Predators MC,
Biker Bitches, and The Dark Souls.

All
my books are written for one purpose- the enjoyment others find in them, and
the expectations of my fans that inspire me to give it my best.”